mad hatter
by luna-umbrae
Summary: "Aw, what's wrong, pretty boy?" As she spoke, she decided that she thoroughly enjoyed springing surprises on this boy and eliciting the aghast, flabbergasted expression that he wore now. She quirked an eyebrow at him, feeling an indulgent smile pulling at her mouth. "Cat got your tongue?" (In which a complete stranger figures out Chat Noir's secret identity.)
1. epigraph

" you think i'm psycho,

you think i'm gone—

tell the psychiatrist something is wrong.

over the bend,

entirely bonkers;

you like me best when i'm off my rocker.

tell you a secret:

i'm not alarmed.

so what if i'm crazy?

the best people are. "

– _mad hatter_ ,

melanie martinez


	2. prologue

**disclaimer: if i owned the show then marinette's crush on adrien wouldn't be so obsessive and unhealthy (honestly mari you're creepy af get it together)**

* * *

"Akumas are very pretty, aren't they?"

The fascinated girl gazed at the subject of her interest, her legs folded under her as she sat on her bed. A small, dark butterfly fluttered wildly inside the small jar she held, the luminescent patterns on its wings flashing as it darted about. She stared at it, mesmerized.

She hummed a soft melody under her breath as she watched it bump into the glass walls surrounding it, the haunting tune escaping from her throat and gracing the cold air. "It's so beautiful," she observed, her dark hair slipping from behind her ear and falling across her forehead as she leaned her head forward.

The small creature sitting on her shoulder spoke up, small antennae waving worriedly as its large eyes regarded the jar. "Yes, but they're also very dangerous," it squeaked. "We need to dispose of this one before it causes us any harm or, even worse, possesses us."

The girl laughed brightly at the warning, as if the creature had suggested something completely absurd. "Oh, this akuma won't posses me!" She beamed, radiant with amusement at the very thought. "You see," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, tilting her head towards her kwami, "whoever is controlling these little butterflies certainly won't want to possess a crazy. We're very hard to control when we're out of our minds." Her eyes were wide and confident, her smile bright.

"Besides," she added, her voice taking on a loving, crooning quality as she watched the dark, imprisoned butterfly in her hands. "This akuma and I are very good friends. It most certainly doesn't want to hurt me." She blinked affectionately at her tiny friend in an attempt at reassurance. "You needn't worry, Verra."

Verra's long ears twitched nervously, one of her short legs thrumming slightly. "We still have to get rid of it, Cecily," she reminded the girl. Despite the reprimanding tone that underlaid her words, her voice was soft and coaxing. "If it won't possess you, it'll eventually find someone else to take advantage of, and then we'll have to catch it again, and it'll all turn into unnecessary trouble for us. You know that."

Cecily sighed, something like remorse sobering her features as she reminisced on memories. Her childlike eagerness faded by a small amount, just enough for her to see reason.

"I suppose," she conceded reluctantly. She tilted the jar in her hands left and right, watching the trapped akuma zip about with more ferocity in response to the movement of its prison. "Although there is still the issue of how we should dispose of it—I have grown quite fond of this one, and I would rather free it in some way than use our usual method." Her eyelids dipped slightly, her blue irises almost hidden by her thick lashes. "There is already so much butterfly blood on my hands."

Verra sighed, her expression sad—it was obvious that she was reflecting on previous missions, feeble black wings crushed under unwilling boots and small, wilted insect bodies regretfully discarded. Both the kwami and the girl sat silent for a moment, thinking of the crimes they had committed to try and do the right thing, until Verra spoke up hesitantly.

"Well," she tried quietly. "We could always ask the current residents of this city what to do. They must be knowledgable, considering how successful they are and how much the people they protect worship them."

Cecily dipped her chin in acknowledgment of this suggestion. "Of course," she murmured quietly, setting the jar and its winged resident on the desk next to her bed. "The heroic Ladybug and her loyal Chat Noir."

She shifted her body, and turned to look out the window. Her serene eyes took in all the lights of Paris, admiring the sparkling map laid out before her. It was a sea of stars forming random constellations, blotting out the actual galaxy hovering above it in its brightness, and she paused her careful thoughts to ponder the irony of this. How sad that a sea of lights should rival the moon.

Her gaze eventually came to rest on the Eiffel Tower, a tall, glimmering structure seeming as if it were reaching up to the sky among the flat, placid buildings surrounding it. If she squinted hard enough, her vision blurring and swimming, she could almost picture the tower as a barren tree trunk bursting from the stars, although that was hardly a realistic image. She reminded herself mentally to climb the Eiffel someday.

Her lips curved into a small smile, almost a smug smirk, as she regarded the resting buildings, and her eyes narrowed. Her voice, when she spoke again, was knowing and warmed with a sense of calmness.

"I'm very much looking forward to meeting the king and queen of this lovely city."

* * *

 **Okay, here's the prologue of Mad Hatter! I don't have a beta editor, so I apologize for any errors.**

 **As you might have noticed, Cecily is very naïve and odd in her mannerisms. That aspect of her personality is going to be super important in this story, as it will influence how she interacts with everyone. I'm really loving how she's turning out so far, and I hope you guys do, too!**

 **Just so you know, this story still takes place when Hawkmoth is a problem for the city. This is, however, an AU where Hawkmoth doesn't create the akumas, merely controls some of them. Akumas are allowed the world, and many people are tasked with monitoring them.**

 **Cecily is one of those people, so yes, she has a Miraculous! Can anyone guess yet what animal her Miraculous is based off of?**

 **And I'm not sure if this story is going to be a romance. I might ship Cecy with Adrien, I might not. I might even ship her with Marinette! (Yes, Cecily is bisexual. If you have a problem with that, suck my pansexual ass.)**

 **On that happy note, I hope you enjoyed this prologue! Please favorite and follow, and drop a review!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **-Luna**


	3. new faces, new friends

**disclaimer: i don't own anything except for my characters.**

 **a/n: this is unedited. i also don't know much about french culture, so just yell at me in a review if i get anything wrong.**

* * *

It was her first day at her new school, and Cecily was elated.

"New school, new life, new me," she cooed, cupping her giggling kwami in her hands.

She waltzed across the room, envisioning a perfect first day. She had been fairly nervous and apprehensive during the process of moving to Paris, but now that she was here, only exhilaration buzzed in her thoughts. She began imagining all the exciting conversations she was going to be able to participate in. Introductions, small talk, relating to other people's interests… Cecily always loved meeting strangers.

She brightened as another thought occurred to her, her prancing pausing for a moment. _Strangers!_

She let out a delighted cry at her new realization, her eyes widening drastically. "Think of all the new people we're going to meet!" Exhilarated at the prospect of making new friends, she spun around in a ditsy circle, the navy skirt that she wore flying out around her. Imagine all the new faces she was going to see, all the new friends she was going to make!

Verra clung onto the material of Cecily's t-shirt as they spun, her long ears flung out behind her as she was spun around. Her laughter was bright and merry, ringing through the air like bells. "It's going to be wonderful!" She tilted her head as the spinning slowly stopped, leaping up into the air and hovering there. "But remember that you have to speak _French_ , not English!"

Cecily wasn't offended by Verra finding it necessary to remind her. She _did,_ undeniably, have an overwhelming tendancy to forget things at inconvenient times—but this was one thing that, for once, hadn't slipped her mind. " _Bonjour, salut, je m'appelle Cecy_ ," she sang, looking in the mirror and checking the small braids crowning her forehead. She turned around in a flurry of flowing skirt and dark hair.

" _C'est bon, ma cherie!_ " She winked playfully at her kwami, tapping her temple coyly. "My language files are all in order!"

Verra smiled, flying up and tucking herself into the denim cardigan that Cecily was throwing on. Her mouth was opened to say something, but the long-eared kwami was cut off when a sweet but exasperated voice floated up from downstairs.

"Cecily! Are you talking to yourself again? You're going to be late for your first day of school if we don't leave soon!"

Cecily straightened her cardigan and ensured that Verra was comfortable, an affectionate smile spreading across her face at the sound of the familiar voice. "Coming, mum!"

* * *

"So, are you excited?" Amara Winters adjusted her sunglasses slightly, looking in the review mirror before smiling at Cecily. "I was worried about you when I decided to move, you being so attached to your old school and all, but you seem pretty happy about it."

Cecily bounced slightly in her seat. "Oh, yes, I'm so excited, maman! I'm really looking forward to meeting all the new people at school." She smiled dreamily out the window, feeling a bubbly anticipation tingling through her. "And I've always wanted to see Paris. The bakeries, the monuments…" She turned her head, grinning conspiratorially at her mother. "The fashion…"

Amara laughed, her cheeks dimpling with indents identical to the ones on Cecily's own face. "Fashion is right, Cecy. Don't forget about that big event we're going to in three days! I'm making us some nice dresses for it."

Cecily blinked, the memory of the large fashion event occurring to her. Her mother had been gushing in excitement about it over the past few days, obviously extremely flattered that she had been invited—although Cecily didn't know why she was so surprised that an invitation was extended to her, given the beauty of Amara's designs. Her work was bound to be noticed as soon as they moved to Paris.

She had made the event all sound very fancy. A big show, many famous models, a buffet, all held by...? She scrunched up her nose, trying to remember the name of the host.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, the name flashing in her mind. "The big show Gabriel Agreste is holding?"

"That's the one," Amara affirmed, her expression excited as she made a turn. "It's supposed to be amazing—lots of reputed fashion designers, good food, all in a super nice house…" She crinkled her nose slightly as her bright mood faded slightly, no doubt thinking of the worn jeans and large sweater she was currently wearing. "All of which I'm not used to."

Cecily tilted her head forward, watching the buildings approaching and passing on either side of the street as the car moved forward. The beige color of many of them reminded her of the spongy inside of a vanilla cake, and she wondered idly what a bite out of the creamy bricks would look like.

Envisioning broken teeth and bleeding gums, she looked away, glancing at her mother.

"Just because you're not used to big displays doesn't mean your designs aren't beautiful," she told Amara soothingly. "You're going to design the dresses we're going to wear there, aren't you? When they see them, they'll know that they're lucky for you to have even accepted the invitation."

"That's just over-exaggerating," Amara said, but she was smiling broadly when she pulled over next to a stately building. Cecily felt her heartbeat quickening as she recognized her new school, her blue eyes widening as she watched the chattering students streaming into the open doors.

Amara sent a radiant grin over at her, taking her hands off the wheel and leaning over. Her arms wrapped loosely around Cecily in a loving half-hug. "Now get in that school and knock 'em all out!" Her fierce comment elicited a bright laugh from her daughter.

Cecily beamed all throughout saying goodbye and getting out of the car, assuring Amara that _yes, she had all her supplies_ and _of course she remembered all her French_. She bounced up and down on her heels as she waved the departing car goodbye, her cheeks dimpled deeply by her large grin. When she turned and started towards the stairs leading up to the entrance of the school, however, her expression changed.

She smirked slightly, the sunlight glinting off the green chain of stones that adorned her ankle as she pranced up the steps. She could feel Verra in her cardigan, curled up and dozing but no doubt ready to leap into action at any moment.

 _Knock 'em all out!_

Her mother had no idea.

* * *

Marinette could only describe herself as _exhausted_.

She and Chat Noir had battled a particularly feisty akuma late into the hours of the night, Marinette barely slipping into her bedroom before her mother came to check up on her. The akumas plaguing the city had become unusually vicious recently, taking control of more people with less time in between attacks, and the fights had become incredibly difficult even with her feline partner.

Neither of Paris's guardians could figure out why the akumas were suddenly in such a frenzy, and Marinette hoped this heightened danger wasn't a permanent development. It was becoming increasingly stressful to juggle school, her alternate superhero life, and helping her parents with the bakery. Getting enough sleep was a whole other dilemma.

A dilemma which, unfortunately, she still hadn't resolved. Marinette blinked her heavy eyelids furiously, resisting the urge to let her head dip down to rest on the table. She could feel Alya giving her a worried look, but she ignored her studiously, glaring at the chalkboard in a meager attempt to feel more awake.

She was immensely irritated at this constant sleepiness that she found herself suffering under. Not only the desire to pass out impossible to sate, but it was making her more vulnerable and affecting her reflexes during fights. She scowled as she remembered a fumble she had made last night, allowing the arm of the evilized person to escape and send a flash of red-hot light straight towards Chat, who had barely been able to bound out of the way.

 _Speaking of Chat…_ Marinette lethargy faded slightly into amusement as she watched the lowered head of the blond boy sitting in front of her. Adrien was obviously just as tired as she was, and she could only imagine his weary expression as he fought off sleep.

As if he could feel his amused gaze on him, Adrien turned his head to shoot her a mock-glare that was blurred with tiredness. She fought back a giggle and forced down her remark of _Don't be a sourpuss_ , instead raising an eyebrow at him and grinning crookedly. He narrowed his eyes at her, but nonetheless blinked at her slowly, his lips turning up into a small smile when she slow-blinked back.

She resisted the urge to turn her head and look at Alya after Adrien went back to facing the board. Her best friend was surely gaping at the blush-and-stutter-free interaction between the two, and would no doubt be bombarding her with more questions later.

Alya had been justifiably shocked when Adrien had come up behind her and Marinette one day and looped his arm over the designer's shoulder—and Marinette had _let him_. He had talked to her with a casual ease, eyes brimming with a smug sense of _knowing_ , and Marinette had matched all of his remarks with statements of her own, eliciting laughter as she shot him down. Marinette had turned, smiling, after Adrien had run off to find Nino, just to see Alya staring at her with a rarely-seen dropped jaw before she was flooded with demanding questions and loud yells.

It was completely understandable that Alya was in disbelief. She had never before encountered this aspect of Adrien's personality before, relaxed and open, and she had never seen _Marinette_ like this, daring and self-assured. It was completely new to her.

In fact, Marinette had been fairly confounded herself when she had discovered Chat's identity—one would expect that her crush on Adrien would only intensify after discovering that _he_ was the black cat who flirted with her constantly, but she was shocked when she no longer found herself tripping over her own words and feet when she was with him. The nervousness and squeaky quality of voice had vanished, giving her a sense of confidence when she conversed with her partner.

The pictures of him all over her room were gone, discarded not without a small pang of grief. Her desktop had been changed to an ironic photo of a ladybug. She cleared out all signs of the huge copy of his schedule that she had had, slightly disturbed that she had been so obsessive. She still had an undeniable soft spot for him, obviously, but it had become less of an infatuation and more of a fond familiarity.

And in turn, Adrien's flamboyant flirtation in his superhero form had dwindled to more of a mischievous affection. He still winked at her and teased her, unable to let go of that side of himself, but now his eyes were underlaid with a bright amusement when he delivered his puns, or smirked at her playfully. The lame pickup lines were now useless, he told her one night with a chuckle, but he refused to ever let them go away.

The dynamics between the duo were now startlingly different, but Marinette found that she much preferred this close companionship to their previous distant pining.

Her thoughts were jolted away from her and Adrien when the teacher strutted back into the room. Marinette had hardly even realized that the class's instructor had left, but the random return wasn't what had surprised her—it was the girl standing at Miss Bustier's side. The rest of the class had obviously noticed as well, gazes becoming alert as they looked up from textbooks and notes to stare and leer at the stranger. Marinette could almost _see_ Chloe's nails sharpening as she sneered at the girl, and a sigh of exasperation escaped her as she realized why.

The girl was absolutely radiant. Not in a beautiful or attractive way, although her pansy-blue eyes and dark hair created a unique contrast to each other and her dimples were charming. Her stance, weight leaning forward slightly onto her toes, exuded playfulness and confidence. Her expression, lips curled into a small smile and eyes bright, showed a prominent exuberance.

It was obvious that this girl was a certain kind of force of nature, and Chloe saw anyone who dared lift their chin in her presence to be a threat to what the bratty blonde considered to be her superior popularity.

The unfamiliar girl didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the almost hostile looks directed at her from the majority of the class, only blinking when the teacher clapped her hands. "Okay, class, we have a new student, so please do your best to make her feel welcome!" Madame Louis beamed at the girl. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

The girl wrinkled her nose slightly, hesitating, and Marinette found herself leaning forward with the rest of the class, wondering what the small silence might mean.

It immediately became obvious when the girl did speak, however, that the hesitation was because she was a foreigner. "My name is Cecily Winters," she said, her voice lilted with an English accent. "I have come here from London because of my mother's interests—she is a designer." She smiled, tilting her head to the side in a way that reminded Marinette of a small puppy, or maybe a rabbit. "I am sorry for my French, I am still taking classes and I am still not very good."

Miss Bustier was quick to reassure her, praising her pronunciation, before directing her to a seat. "Why don't you sit there, at the table behind—Kim, raise your hand?—the table behind where Kim is sitting, in the empty chair, and you can let me know later if it's not a good place for you."

Cecily smiled in a way that could only be described as whimsical, thanking her before walking to her seat. Marinette observed her oddly swanning gait, her curiosity peaked by this new student. She wondered about what the girl had said, about her mother being a designer—maybe Marinette knew her designs? She resolved to introduce herself to the new girl after class. She was always open to making new friends, and she would love to meet someone else who might be familiar with designing.

Alya was, apparently, also eager to talk to Cecily, although for a different reason from Marinette's. She leaned over, her eyes wide. "She's British!" she whispered excitedly. "Did you hear that accent? It sounds so smart!"

Marinette giggled at her friend's enthusiasm. "And her mother's a designer! Maybe she's into designing, too," she said hopefully, voicing her previous thoughts.

Nino's voice chimed in. "You know, that accent kind of makes her attractive!"

Adrien huffed, letting out a pained "Nino…"

"What?" Nino said with a grin, but his smile faded when he noticed Alya squinting at him and disappeared completely when Marinette leveled him with a glare. His hands began to wave, held out in front of his defensively. "I mean, Alya's obviously way more beautiful!"

"Just shut up, Nino."

"Hey!"

The four students bickered on, none aware of a blue-eyed gaze observing them—or, to be more exact, observing Adrien.

Cecily tilted her head as she regarded the blond boy on the other side of the room, only vaguely listening to Kim's excited questions about Britain. She was comparing the boy's grass-green eyes to those of a black-clad superhero she had seen in the newspaper just yesterday. She pursed her lips contemplatively, resting her chin on her hand. An idea was occurring to her—she had never considered it before, but now that she thought of it, she found herself pondering it.

Could the king and queen be students here?

She pondered the mental question, feeling the anklet on her left leg almost burning as her curiousity flared. Well, if she herself had a Miraculous, what was to say that Paris's famed heroes weren't just as young as she was? It wasn't an impossible idea to entertain.

And if they were students, it would certainly be convenient, making it much easier to sniff out their identities and find help with getting rid of that trapped akuma in her possession. She already had one suspect. She eyed the good-looking blonde again.

But how could she confirm her suspicions? It wasn't as if she could just walk up to Chat Noir and rip off his mask. She squinted thoughtfully into the middle distance, feeling an urge to reach down and touch her anklet as the considered the idea. Well, maybe…

But then her ears finally caught something that Kim was saying. "You said your mom was a designer, right? Did you know that Adrien—that kid over there—is Gabriel Agreste's son?"

Cecily looked up, her eyes lighting up as an idea began to blossom in her mind, forming a mental bud barely opened. " _Vraiment?_ Really?"

" _Oui_." Kim was noticeably pleased to have her attention, his expression smug. "He does a lot of modeling, wearing his dad's designs, all that stuff."

He said more, going on about a recent advertisement for a fragrence or something of the sort, but Cecily was already caught up in her own mind again. The idea in the back of her mind had become a flower, vines branching out and growing leaves as she contemplated her plot. She could get up close to her muses, rid herself of the akuma, and figure out the identity of at least the king of Paris, all in rapid succession.

Her hand went to her cardigan where Verra was nestled, her mind now composed of blooms and petals and excitement. All she needed to do was get out at least tonight or tomorrow, and find Adrien Agreste at the fashion event in three days.

Easy.

* * *

 **Oh, boy. I'm not very happy with how this chapter turned out at all, but here it is.**

 **If you guys notice inconsistencies and mistakes in my writing, there are two reasons. Firstly, I do not have a definite plan for the plot of this story. There are no fixed variables, or planned-out climaxes and resolutions. Many things may be changed, either for my own preferences or to conform to new canon stuff as more episodes of the show come out.**

 **Secondly, as I stated at the beginning of the chapter, I am but a mere American. I do take French classes, but right now I've learned more of the language than I have of the culture. So please just let me know if you have any corrections or advice!**

 **I also apologize in advance for slow updates in the future. I rarely have enough time for legitimate writing sessions, so new chapters may be slow in the making. I do want to see the end of this story, but it's probably going to take a _long_ while to get there. Just bear with me, and be patient, please!**

 **Finally, please follow and favorite, and leave a review telling me what you think!**

 **-Luna xx**


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